Whenever You Need Me
by CuriosityID
Summary: Tim has been obsessing over an important mission to the point of neglecting himself, an alarming habit of his. Strangely enough, the Red Hood has been appointed by the rest of the family to call him out on it. So Jason does...in his own way. One-shot, no slash.


Blend, blend, blend. Winter midnight sky above me, clouds of a rainstorm gathering, alleyways surrounding every side and a gigantic metal door in front of me that opens into a warehouse, supposed storage of smuggled cocaine. Glancing from the long lane on either side, I'm going to rush for it and start breaking into the electronic lock. But there's a street lamp on my left and I have to be fast.

There's an eerie silence here, so hopefully everyone's decided that it's just too cold to have a hangout here. I rush it.

Kneeling down and taking out my cryptographic sequencer and starting to hack into the lock, biting my lip. I don't know why I'm so nervous tonight. I've got everything under control. They're relying on me, they want me to do this. This is important.

Okay, so it's been rough. So I've been lying awake at night, studying for this. Commissioner Gordon has been working this with me, giving me every little bit of information he could gather and left the rest for me to deduce.

So yeah I've haven't slept in..._days._ And I've had about three (four?) protein bars in that span of time. And yes, I am doing just fine.

Thank you very much, Dick. He's been on me since I started this. Bossing me around and telling me to relax...like that's possible.

I glance up at the door, and back to the tiny computer. It's still flipping through the numbers, trying to decode. It's beeping way too loud.

A flash of red: _Failed._

_No, you machine, you didn't even try._

I retry, feeling my heart starting to quicken its pace. _Relax. _Now Dick's voice is ringing in my head.

_There is no relax, I've got to finish this mission. This could stump the drug lords for a while now, they'll freak. And if I don't complete this, I won't be able to live with myself. _

"Babybird."

I drop the cryptograph machine and it clatters to the floor, metal hitting concrete, clanging against the door. A snicker in the dark and I glance around to see the strong smiling face, a brilliant red mask only covering the eyes this time.

"Red," I hiss, trying to catch my breath while he laughs, a little snorting sound. He presses his hand to his mouth, like he's trying to keep quiet but he's not really.

"Hey, Little Red," Jason chuckles. "Whatcha up to?"

"I'm on a mission for Batman," I whisper. He's scared me. My hands are shaking. "I've got t-to break into this lock and you-"

"Oh, maybe I can help you with that," he says. Still staring and smiling at me, his hand reaches behind me and he presses the lock's numbers firmly. I hear the tumblers hit against each other. It's unlocked.

I'm silent for a moment.

"How did you know the password?" I ask.

"Some poor henchman literally _gave _it to me."

I swallow. Poor is right. I'd hate to be the one Red Hood was after.

"Well? Aren't you gonna thank me, babybird?"

He's really expecting it. I fold my arms over my chest and dare to look hard at him. "Thank you."

He tilts his head strangely, raises one eyebrow, as if he doesn't really believe me. "Hm. After you." Jason holds out his arms toward the door. I turn and twist the knob carefully, listening to the sound of the door creaking. Jason glances down both ways of the alley, looking out for me.

I am thankful that he knew the password. I'm also thankful he's with me.

But why is he with me, anyway?

I step into the warehouse, scanning the tall building, noting the long skylight in the center of the ceiling. We could be watched. I walk along the wall, turn on night vision on my mask. Through the green visual, I can see about six or seven large crates in the corner of the room. My objective.

I glance back at Jason, who's closing the door cautiously, but he takes out a piece of plastic, perhaps an old credit card and places it in front of the lock. It looks mostly closed, but for the card holding in the lock. He nods at me.

I can feel him now behind me, slowly taking out his pistol. He sees me staring at it, and pulls the chamber. He's not ashamed of the firearm. Never has been.

I try to move a little faster, as I turn the corner along the wall, closer and closer to the crates. Objective is to blow them out of commission, getting rid of tons of drugs as well as leaving a calling card. Let them know that we're on them. I can hear a clicking on the roof; the winter storm is breaking.

Jason suddenly grabs my shoulder, pressing me to the wall. I can see what he's focused on now. There's a guard at the skylight. Aiming for us.

The Red Hood raises his pistol and reciprocates the aim. "Red-" I whisper and then I hear two shots fired at the same time. Jason shoves me and we hit the crates hard, the sharp corner of wood hitting me in the ribcage. The bullet aimed for Jason hits the wall, creating a few sparks from the metal. I look up at the skylight; the guard is backing away, a hand to his shoulder. Even in the dark I can see that he's bleeding profusely.

Jason didn't kill him.

"Thanks again," I hiss, taking a few incendiary batarangs from my belt and placing one on each crate. A shot is fired again from the skylight.

"Boy, are you welcome," Jason growls. "You dragging me out the this freezing weather-"

"I didn't drag you out here, you came yourself!"

"Yeah but I was volunteered."

"What?" I slam one more batarang for good measure and then grab his arm to pull him away from the crates. He shoots again and now I hear a couple of weapons going off. They've pulled in reinforcements.

"Who told you I was coming out here?" I press myself to the wall again and start moving faster.

"Nightwing did. He called me."

"For what reason?" Rapid air from a speeding bullet whizzes past my head.

"Cause he wanted me to look out for you. He's worried about you."

_Dick? Worried about me?_

"Yeah he's worried about you," Jason repeats and I wonder, not for the first time, if he can read my mind. "So's-" he pauses and pulls out another pistols and starts shooting like mad, "-so's The Big Guy."

_Bruce._

"No they're not," I argue and pull against the door we came in through, but I turn when I see about four thugs descend on ropes from the skylight, all firing some sort of firearm.

"Don't argue with me and let's get the hell out of here."

He pushes me out and I feel bitter sleet hit my face. We start running down the alleyway, street lamps giving off our location all too well. I can hear the shouting of curses behind me. The ground is accumulating ice.

"Give me your grappling hook!" Jason says, and I grab it off my belt and hand it to him. A strike to the back of my right shoulder, deflected by the kevlar. I gasp, all the breath knocked out of me. There's a clawing ache on my shoulder that gets sharper the faster we move.

Jason wraps an arm around me and unleashes the hook to the top of a bank's wall in front of us. He immediately pulls us above the street lamp and we're more hidden now. I get on top of the building's roof and pull him up with me. We duck under the beam of rock, I'm trying to breathe again.

"You okay, babybird?"

"You can't even call me by my first name, let alone my vigilante name," I groan, pressing my hand to my shoulder. This subject will divert his attention from the hot burning pain of the deflected bullet. "I'm starting to think you don't know it."

He reloads his pistol, just in case, all the while watching me. "Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, don't you sass me."

"And don't you say my name out here!" I slap his arm and he starts laughing again.

"You're hilarious!"

"I'm not. I'm serious, Red. Don't-"

"But you're too serious," Jason says, raising an eyebrow at me. I hate that look of his, that little "_you know that I know that I think you're funny with a side of cute" _and it's even worse without the mask.

But I will admit...I know, I know I told him once that I liked his plastic blood-red mask that covered his entire face. I lied. I like knowing his emotion. It's scary when I don't know what he's thinking behind that helmet that still creeps me out.

It's scary when I don't know what anyone is thinking behind their eyes.

I frown and remember what he just said to my face.

"What are you saying? I'm just trying to do my work and-"

"I'm just saying that you have obsessive compulsive disorder and a short-boy complex and before all this is over, from what I've heard, an eating disorder. Tim, that's-"

"No, _Red Hood_, no, just not. That's not it at all."

"Oh?" He straightens, his head right in the line of fire, but he's not worried about that at all. "So what's your problem, dear brother?"

"This is my work, Red. I'm supposed to work hard, right? I just wish that people would stay out of my business and let me get some things accomplished without interruption!"

Red Hood tosses his hands into the air, still gripping two pistols and he sighs loudly. "See! You're irritable too."

I feel a pressure in my chest, sweat gathering on my forehead. "I'm not irritable, I just want to be left alone!"

"But you don't really."

I jerk my head back toward the alley below us. The timer should be going off about right...now.

I close my eyes and hear the thunderous explosion, metal and fire mixing with rain and sleet, yellow and red lighting up the dim slums of Gotham. The noise is deafening. Ice takes the form of sparks falling from the sky.

"Mission complete," I whisper.

"I hope you're satisfied." Jason grumps.

I take a deep breath. It's over. Everything I've struggled on is fulfilled tonight. "Yes...I am," I reply.

"Good!" He stands up and I can hear the clinking of the zipper on his jacket and the stamping of his boots as he starts walking away. "Until the next mission which you'll probably win off by sweat, blood and tears, nights without sleep and meals totally skipped as self-inflicted punishment because you missed a step or something. But if you screw it up, oh then you'll promptly declare, 'I'm good for nothing, Jay' and throw yourself off the Daily Planet building."

I look back at him. He's folded his arms, looking down on me. Just the idea he's just proposed makes me blink, strikes against my heart, even though he may have just been teasing. Seriously teasing. But...that's pretty much how I've been living.

Ever since Bruce left. Ever since he came back. I've turned...weird with a side of insanity. I feel like it keeps me alive. I need it now, almost like a drug I've gotten addicted to. It gives me..._meaning. _

And Jason's calling it out on me.

"Jason." I growl it before I can stop myself from saying his name out in the open. "Just shut up, okay?"

"Look, Tim, it's not like I'm scared of you," he answers slowly, almost bitterly. He looks up at me. "But make it scared _for_ you."

Jason Todd, Mister I-Can-Take-Care-Of-Everything-So-Get-Out-Of-My-Life, stepping into my own, and it's plain from the face that he makes, that deep set frown with his jaw to one side...that he's dead serious.

I'm surprised - and strangely humbled - that this man has even bothered telling me that.

"Jay," I dare to whisper, "I'm okay, really."

His shoulders slump and his eyes rove all around before coming back to me. He shakes his head. "Just...just take care of yourself, alright? I'm not kidding." He pauses for a second before sighing. "_We're_ not kidding."

_And here I thought I was alone._

I nod. "Okay, Jason."

"Thank you," he says with a satisfied air. "If you need attention, food, emotional support or some seriously needed advice on getting information from naïve henchmen...you know where to find me."

I chuckle, standing up with a wince. "Yeah, thanks."

He smiles, and I watch him take out his pack of cigarettes, his little flame making dark shadows around his face. His lighter shuts with a familiar clink and then he's in the black night, blending in as he usually does.

I can only hear his voice. "See you around, Babybird."


End file.
